- Published on
Occasionally, I find it difficult to explain to younger audiences what it was like growing up being a fan of certain pictures.
In the not so distant past, this point-and-click possibility of entertainment being readily available at the click of a button just didn't exist. Back in my youth, there were no such places as video stores to go and pick up a VHS tape because, simply, the technology never existed. There was no home video. There was no streaming agency. The only way to enjoy some of our movie favorites was to -- weekly -- scan the published movie guide and actually take note of when a certain picture was going to play. And, Hell, if we were lucky, then one of our favorites would have to have been popular enough to warrant some annual broadcast on whatever of the three, six, or nine channels we had available to us.
Suffice it to say, that wasn't the case with so very many flicks.
Perhaps it's better that a young child like myself couldn't have just plopped himself in front of the television set every day after school and watched another screening of 1933's King Kong. You know? Maybe the story of the mighty ape and the love of his life wouldn't have been as impactful if I had worn out the VHS tape with daily visits. Perhaps I wouldn't have developed an unquenchable thirst for monster movies if I had had immediate access to an entire library of them. Instead, I learned to love them one at a time, and I learned to appreciate how old school effects work was as much a labor of love as it was a job for some of these technically-skilled craftsmen and women.
And that's probably why the motion picture that turns 90 years young today still has a place somewhere in an available corner of my beating heart. Like Kong, I can recall a day when things were simply. All I had to do was run through the jungle -- erm, backyard -- and have something waiting for me to occupy my time that was provided by the natives -- erm, parents. Life was a big and bold adventure meant to be lived in the wild and not within the confines of a two-bedroom house. Civilization, in fact, meant the end of all good things -- as Kong no doubt learned -- and even a pretty face could spell doom if one wasn't careful.
Yes, yes, yes. I've said too much.
Here's the film's plot summary as provided by our friends at IMDB.com:
"A film crew goes to a tropical island for an exotic location shoot and discovers a colossal ape who takes a shine to their female blonde star. He is then captured and brought back to New York City for public exhibition."
In the not so distant past, this point-and-click possibility of entertainment being readily available at the click of a button just didn't exist. Back in my youth, there were no such places as video stores to go and pick up a VHS tape because, simply, the technology never existed. There was no home video. There was no streaming agency. The only way to enjoy some of our movie favorites was to -- weekly -- scan the published movie guide and actually take note of when a certain picture was going to play. And, Hell, if we were lucky, then one of our favorites would have to have been popular enough to warrant some annual broadcast on whatever of the three, six, or nine channels we had available to us.
Suffice it to say, that wasn't the case with so very many flicks.
Perhaps it's better that a young child like myself couldn't have just plopped himself in front of the television set every day after school and watched another screening of 1933's King Kong. You know? Maybe the story of the mighty ape and the love of his life wouldn't have been as impactful if I had worn out the VHS tape with daily visits. Perhaps I wouldn't have developed an unquenchable thirst for monster movies if I had had immediate access to an entire library of them. Instead, I learned to love them one at a time, and I learned to appreciate how old school effects work was as much a labor of love as it was a job for some of these technically-skilled craftsmen and women.
And that's probably why the motion picture that turns 90 years young today still has a place somewhere in an available corner of my beating heart. Like Kong, I can recall a day when things were simply. All I had to do was run through the jungle -- erm, backyard -- and have something waiting for me to occupy my time that was provided by the natives -- erm, parents. Life was a big and bold adventure meant to be lived in the wild and not within the confines of a two-bedroom house. Civilization, in fact, meant the end of all good things -- as Kong no doubt learned -- and even a pretty face could spell doom if one wasn't careful.
Yes, yes, yes. I've said too much.
Here's the film's plot summary as provided by our friends at IMDB.com:
"A film crew goes to a tropical island for an exotic location shoot and discovers a colossal ape who takes a shine to their female blonde star. He is then captured and brought back to New York City for public exhibition."
Why, it's only natural for Hollywood to attempt to recapture that original movie magic; as such, there have been a few incarnations of Kong on the silver screen. But for my money none of them have been as good as that original ... and, yes, I say this full well knowing that the 1933 film's effects aren't exactly spectacular by comparison. Still, this is the big ape I knew in my earliest days, and I think I'm comfortable sticking with him until my bitter finish. It's the least I could do.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
NOTE: Many SciFiHistory.Net longtime readers know full and well that -- not all that long ago -- I was one of the Amazon.com Top 1,000 Reviewers, most of which was owed to the fact that I had been covering film on their website for almost twenty years. When Jeff Bezos summarily pulled the rug out from under his long-time scribes and dumped us in favor of just having the average Tom, Dick, and Harry review his products, he and his technical minions dumped my vast library of commentary. Bounty Hunter is a film I reviewed for the commercial giant back in 2013, and what follows is the edited repost of my thoughts of the film.
Read on ...
Read on ...
Yes, thank goodness that B movies are still being made today. B movies, Grindhouse flicks, throwaway pictures … whatever you want to call them. For many of us, they’re a staple from our youth – a harmless diversion of cinematic entertainment – visual popcorn – that’s clearly meant to be derivative of some bigger, bolder, but no doubt blander. Considering what goes hand-in-hand with the B movie – action, hot women, and blood (preferably plenty of it) – it’s no wonder young and old men will sit through anything so long as there’s the promise that all three will be delivered in spades.
Early this year, I’d seen some footage of Bounty Killer on an entertainment website; but, alas, I never saw the picture playing theatrically in the U.S. That’s a shame – it may have, and it would’ve been fun to see it up on the silver screen – but maybe that’s just the way things are. After all, B movies are best when experienced in the comfort and privacy of a room with a solitary boob tube.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and characters. If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for my final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Bounty killers compete for body count, fame, and a fat stack of cash. They’re ending the plague of corporate greed and providing the survivors of the Apocalypse with retribution. This is the age of the Bounty Killers.”
20 years into tomorrow, our planet has been reduced into a desert wasteland. (Yes! Yet again! Woohoo!)
Was it global warming? Nuclear catastrophe? Bad gardening? Quite possibly a combination of the above. What’s left of civilization is little more than ragtag outposts, all hoping for one thing: vengeance against the corrupt corporate raiders who selfishness destroyed our world. Enter the 'Bounty Killers,’ men and women trained to take down what remains of these capitalist scum, but all for a price and a chance at the good life. Drifter (played with suitable B-movie charm by Matthew Marsden) is the best around, but there’s an up’n’comer named Mary Death (the stunning Christian Pitre) who’ll stop at nothing to dethrone the lead killer.
Now … who would’ve guessed they were former lovers?
Ok. Unlike other reviewers, I try to be perfectly straight with you. So here’s the stone-cold truth: if you don’t like B movies, then Bounty Killer is probably not for you. When I say ‘like,’ I mean ‘love.’ This is B movie magic from start to finish.
Early this year, I’d seen some footage of Bounty Killer on an entertainment website; but, alas, I never saw the picture playing theatrically in the U.S. That’s a shame – it may have, and it would’ve been fun to see it up on the silver screen – but maybe that’s just the way things are. After all, B movies are best when experienced in the comfort and privacy of a room with a solitary boob tube.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and characters. If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for my final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Bounty killers compete for body count, fame, and a fat stack of cash. They’re ending the plague of corporate greed and providing the survivors of the Apocalypse with retribution. This is the age of the Bounty Killers.”
20 years into tomorrow, our planet has been reduced into a desert wasteland. (Yes! Yet again! Woohoo!)
Was it global warming? Nuclear catastrophe? Bad gardening? Quite possibly a combination of the above. What’s left of civilization is little more than ragtag outposts, all hoping for one thing: vengeance against the corrupt corporate raiders who selfishness destroyed our world. Enter the 'Bounty Killers,’ men and women trained to take down what remains of these capitalist scum, but all for a price and a chance at the good life. Drifter (played with suitable B-movie charm by Matthew Marsden) is the best around, but there’s an up’n’comer named Mary Death (the stunning Christian Pitre) who’ll stop at nothing to dethrone the lead killer.
Now … who would’ve guessed they were former lovers?
Ok. Unlike other reviewers, I try to be perfectly straight with you. So here’s the stone-cold truth: if you don’t like B movies, then Bounty Killer is probably not for you. When I say ‘like,’ I mean ‘love.’ This is B movie magic from start to finish.
Marsden certainly comes close to mastering his game here. He plays his killer with his tongue firmly planted in his cheek … well, that is, when it isn’t firmly planted in Christian Pitre’s cheek (snicker snicker) … and that’s a heavenly place indeed. Together, they muster exactly the kind of screen chemistry necessary to elevate this picture above the humdrum – which it very easily could’ve become – and, as talented professionals, it’s very clear that they had a very thorough understanding of this material: look good, rush in, shoot first, and tally up the dead. They march through their paces here with a theatrically reserved glee, but I haven’t a doubt: they probably had a ball making this film.
As is often the case, there’s a fair amount of comic relief built into the property, and those stripes are fairly well earned by Barak Hardley.
As the mostly bumbling gun-carrier Jack LeMans, he rushed through his marks trying harder than he needs to generate the requisite amount of laughs; and, if BOUNTY had any weakness, it would probably be the reliance on some relatively predictable humor. (Sorry, folks, but that’s always a mood killer for me.) Jack isn’t fast enough on the draw. Jack accidently throws the gun too far. Jack gets a face-full of blood spray (be warned: there’s plenty of blood spray in this picture). You know these jokes. You’ve seen them before, if not hundreds and hundreds of times. They practically write themselves. Given the fact that they’re clearly intended to be a harmless distraction from the body count, I guess the best you can do is to sit back and enjoy the ride.
God knows I did.
If anyone was watching, then Bounty is exactly the kind of film that deserves a sequel. Scribe Jason Dodson (who’s responsible for the graphic novel upon which it’s based) and director Henry Saine (who’s responsible for the art and illustrations of the same) brought their ‘A game’ to this wild B material, and one can only hope and pray it gets discovered by the widest audience possible.
But, as I said, you gotta like B movies. And by ‘like,’ I mean ‘love.’ Otherwise much of this will be lost on you.
Bounty Killer (2013) is produced by Kickarc, Raindance Entertainment, and Just Chorizo Productions. DVD distribution is being handled by Arc Entertainment. As for the technical specifications, the film looks and sounds pretty solid consistently; there’s some muddled dialogue early in the soundtrack that could’ve been more cleanly recorded, and, sure, there’s some silly special effects that could look better had they spent more money on this, but that would probably remove half of the fun. As for the special features, there’s a brief (15 minute) ‘Making Of’ short that really serves more like a bloated ad, and there’s the theatrical trailer: I would’ve liked more, but – as they say – it is what it is.
Highest recommendation possible.
That’s right. “Highest recommendation possible.” I said it. Now it’s up to you: you’re either going to see it or not, you crumb-cruncher. You want my advice? Get off your duff, get out to the video store, and pick up BOUNTY HUNTER as a quick rental. Or better yet? Buy yourself a copy. If you’re a fanboy, then this is entertainment you live for. It’s a perfect B-movie adaptation based on a zany graphic novel. And, yeah, it’s perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing. Would you?
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arc Entertainment provided me with a DVD copy of Bounty Killer by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.
-- EZ
As is often the case, there’s a fair amount of comic relief built into the property, and those stripes are fairly well earned by Barak Hardley.
As the mostly bumbling gun-carrier Jack LeMans, he rushed through his marks trying harder than he needs to generate the requisite amount of laughs; and, if BOUNTY had any weakness, it would probably be the reliance on some relatively predictable humor. (Sorry, folks, but that’s always a mood killer for me.) Jack isn’t fast enough on the draw. Jack accidently throws the gun too far. Jack gets a face-full of blood spray (be warned: there’s plenty of blood spray in this picture). You know these jokes. You’ve seen them before, if not hundreds and hundreds of times. They practically write themselves. Given the fact that they’re clearly intended to be a harmless distraction from the body count, I guess the best you can do is to sit back and enjoy the ride.
God knows I did.
If anyone was watching, then Bounty is exactly the kind of film that deserves a sequel. Scribe Jason Dodson (who’s responsible for the graphic novel upon which it’s based) and director Henry Saine (who’s responsible for the art and illustrations of the same) brought their ‘A game’ to this wild B material, and one can only hope and pray it gets discovered by the widest audience possible.
But, as I said, you gotta like B movies. And by ‘like,’ I mean ‘love.’ Otherwise much of this will be lost on you.
Bounty Killer (2013) is produced by Kickarc, Raindance Entertainment, and Just Chorizo Productions. DVD distribution is being handled by Arc Entertainment. As for the technical specifications, the film looks and sounds pretty solid consistently; there’s some muddled dialogue early in the soundtrack that could’ve been more cleanly recorded, and, sure, there’s some silly special effects that could look better had they spent more money on this, but that would probably remove half of the fun. As for the special features, there’s a brief (15 minute) ‘Making Of’ short that really serves more like a bloated ad, and there’s the theatrical trailer: I would’ve liked more, but – as they say – it is what it is.
Highest recommendation possible.
That’s right. “Highest recommendation possible.” I said it. Now it’s up to you: you’re either going to see it or not, you crumb-cruncher. You want my advice? Get off your duff, get out to the video store, and pick up BOUNTY HUNTER as a quick rental. Or better yet? Buy yourself a copy. If you’re a fanboy, then this is entertainment you live for. It’s a perfect B-movie adaptation based on a zany graphic novel. And, yeah, it’s perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing. Would you?
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arc Entertainment provided me with a DVD copy of Bounty Killer by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.
-- EZ
- Published on
"Pow! Pa-pa-pow!"
-- Billy Duncan (as played by Kim Milford)
-- Billy Duncan (as played by Kim Milford)
There's something to be said about celebrating bad movies.
Though rules are made to be broken, I don't suppose anyone ever etched in stone the commandment that every movie should be good -- or, at least, worthwhile -- but Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror certainly have had their fair share of stinkers. I've always maintained that -- unlike other types of films -- genre entertainment tends to more often than not celebrate those features that go so gloriously, gloriously wrong. While there are exceptions to every rule (hello, Showgirls), genre fans have long shown a willingness to embrace the weird, the wacky, and the wildest failures of record. Hell, we've even had a little something something called Mystery Science Theater 3000 evolve as a consequence of our collective delight at poking fun at some of cinema's boldest oddities. That says something, and I'll leave it at that.
Indeed, one of the flicks forever lampooned by the yucksters at MST3K was 1978's Laserblast. And -- might I add -- it was deserved so lampooned.
Directed by Michael Rae from a script by Franne Schacht and Frank Ray Perilli, the film starred Kim Milford, Cheryl Smith, Gianni Russo, Ron Masak, Dennis Burkley, and some curious Claymation aliens. According to IMDB.com, the picture had its theatrical premiere on this day all the way back in 1978 in -- jointly -- Sweden and the United States. (Why there? Why Sweden? We may never know.) Here's the plot summary as provided by the site:
"A teenager stumbles upon an alien weapon, which transforms him into a grotesque killer."
Interestingly enough, Perilli's is a name I've come across before. (Actually, I think it may be the only one in the entirety of this project that I've seen on more than a single occasion.) I'd read a bit of his background in a handful of places, and I'm aware that he's worked on scripts for such projects as Mansion Of The Doomed (1976), Dracula's Dog (1977), End Of The World (1977), and Alligator (1980), so it isn't as if Laserblast came about from the entirely uninitiated. The man had some modest credentials, so it is curious how this particular film evolved (or is that devolved?) into its legendary state.
But there's another name associated with Laserblast that perhaps explains just how and why it did reasonably well back then and continues to resonate with cult audiences today: producer Charles Band.
Band is a bit of a Hollywood legend -- especially in parts of the Information Superhighway where fans of mildly off-center projects propagate -- and he's a known commodity for connoisseurs of quality B-Movies. All one need do is check out the man's incredible resume on IMDB.com (here), and you'll see that he's been associated with well over three hundred different projects and well on his way to four hundred! About as prolific as they come in the world of genre properties, his name is attached to such franchises as Trancers, Puppet Master, and Josh Kirby: Time Warrior. You don't last as long in the entertainment business as Band has done without knowing a thing or two about both money and success, and I can't help but wonder how much of Laserblast's longevity is truly owed to having that underdog/maverick working behind-the-scences.
Though rules are made to be broken, I don't suppose anyone ever etched in stone the commandment that every movie should be good -- or, at least, worthwhile -- but Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror certainly have had their fair share of stinkers. I've always maintained that -- unlike other types of films -- genre entertainment tends to more often than not celebrate those features that go so gloriously, gloriously wrong. While there are exceptions to every rule (hello, Showgirls), genre fans have long shown a willingness to embrace the weird, the wacky, and the wildest failures of record. Hell, we've even had a little something something called Mystery Science Theater 3000 evolve as a consequence of our collective delight at poking fun at some of cinema's boldest oddities. That says something, and I'll leave it at that.
Indeed, one of the flicks forever lampooned by the yucksters at MST3K was 1978's Laserblast. And -- might I add -- it was deserved so lampooned.
Directed by Michael Rae from a script by Franne Schacht and Frank Ray Perilli, the film starred Kim Milford, Cheryl Smith, Gianni Russo, Ron Masak, Dennis Burkley, and some curious Claymation aliens. According to IMDB.com, the picture had its theatrical premiere on this day all the way back in 1978 in -- jointly -- Sweden and the United States. (Why there? Why Sweden? We may never know.) Here's the plot summary as provided by the site:
"A teenager stumbles upon an alien weapon, which transforms him into a grotesque killer."
Interestingly enough, Perilli's is a name I've come across before. (Actually, I think it may be the only one in the entirety of this project that I've seen on more than a single occasion.) I'd read a bit of his background in a handful of places, and I'm aware that he's worked on scripts for such projects as Mansion Of The Doomed (1976), Dracula's Dog (1977), End Of The World (1977), and Alligator (1980), so it isn't as if Laserblast came about from the entirely uninitiated. The man had some modest credentials, so it is curious how this particular film evolved (or is that devolved?) into its legendary state.
But there's another name associated with Laserblast that perhaps explains just how and why it did reasonably well back then and continues to resonate with cult audiences today: producer Charles Band.
Band is a bit of a Hollywood legend -- especially in parts of the Information Superhighway where fans of mildly off-center projects propagate -- and he's a known commodity for connoisseurs of quality B-Movies. All one need do is check out the man's incredible resume on IMDB.com (here), and you'll see that he's been associated with well over three hundred different projects and well on his way to four hundred! About as prolific as they come in the world of genre properties, his name is attached to such franchises as Trancers, Puppet Master, and Josh Kirby: Time Warrior. You don't last as long in the entertainment business as Band has done without knowing a thing or two about both money and success, and I can't help but wonder how much of Laserblast's longevity is truly owed to having that underdog/maverick working behind-the-scences.
Whatever stuffing Laserblast has that has kept fans of genuine schlock coming back to the feast, it's safe to say that the meal hasn't quite spoiled. In fact, IMDB.com reports that there have been a few loosely-inspired remakes of the original -- if not even loosely-inspired sequels -- and that has to count for something in any age of entertainment. Kudos to those who've found it, endured its zany mediocrity, and continues to sing whatever praises can be found within.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
"As far as I see it Creature from the Black Lagoon was just another movie and it was just another job. I've done many things since then that I am much more proud of. But I've gotten more reaction out of the Creature thing than anything else. Well, I guess that's life!"
-- Ricou Browning (from IMDB.com)
-- Ricou Browning (from IMDB.com)
Sigh.
I've never quite understood why Universal Studios' Creature From The Black Lagoon addition to their Movie Monsters Universe never quite gets enough love.
I do understand that -- as movie universes go -- it really came as a pretty late addition to their line-up of Dracula, Frankenstein, the Invisible Man, and the Wolf Man. The starting bench hit the silver screens truly in Hollywood's Golden Age -- to an extent -- and have all proven to have some incredible staying power at the box office with remakes and retreads emerging seemingly every other decade or so. But the Gill Man? Wow. We've never quite seem him again, and I think that's a crying shame. He's definitely got his sea legs, and I think he's ripe for an update.
In any event ...
Actor and stunt diver Ricou Browning was tapped to play the legendary creature when it was 'in the drink,' as they say; and methinks he did a spectacular job swimming about while looking entirely menacing all of the time. Suiting up for all of the films -- Creature From The Black Lagoon (1954), Revenge Of The Creature (1955), and The Creature Walks Among Us (1956) -- the talented man leaves a legacy that's quite unmatched on the silver screen; and his IMDB.com profile indicates that he continued to work in the industry with such aqua-themed entities as Sea Hunt, The Aquanauts, and Flipper in the years ahead. Furthermore, he went on to direct the underwater sequences in the James Bond thrillers Thunderball (1965) and Never Say Never Again (1983).
Alas, none of us lasts forever; and word reached the SciFiHistory.Net news desk this morning of the man's passing at the age of 93.
Prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Mr. Browning. May he forever rest in peace.
-- EZ
I've never quite understood why Universal Studios' Creature From The Black Lagoon addition to their Movie Monsters Universe never quite gets enough love.
I do understand that -- as movie universes go -- it really came as a pretty late addition to their line-up of Dracula, Frankenstein, the Invisible Man, and the Wolf Man. The starting bench hit the silver screens truly in Hollywood's Golden Age -- to an extent -- and have all proven to have some incredible staying power at the box office with remakes and retreads emerging seemingly every other decade or so. But the Gill Man? Wow. We've never quite seem him again, and I think that's a crying shame. He's definitely got his sea legs, and I think he's ripe for an update.
In any event ...
Actor and stunt diver Ricou Browning was tapped to play the legendary creature when it was 'in the drink,' as they say; and methinks he did a spectacular job swimming about while looking entirely menacing all of the time. Suiting up for all of the films -- Creature From The Black Lagoon (1954), Revenge Of The Creature (1955), and The Creature Walks Among Us (1956) -- the talented man leaves a legacy that's quite unmatched on the silver screen; and his IMDB.com profile indicates that he continued to work in the industry with such aqua-themed entities as Sea Hunt, The Aquanauts, and Flipper in the years ahead. Furthermore, he went on to direct the underwater sequences in the James Bond thrillers Thunderball (1965) and Never Say Never Again (1983).
Alas, none of us lasts forever; and word reached the SciFiHistory.Net news desk this morning of the man's passing at the age of 93.
Prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Mr. Browning. May he forever rest in peace.
-- EZ
- Published on
"I want my molecules back!"
-- Nick Halloway (as played by Chevy Chase)
-- Nick Halloway (as played by Chevy Chase)
Generally speaking, I am a fan of the old being made new ... to an extent.
Taking a property like H.G. Wells' novel "The Invisible Man" and tweaking it in such a way as author H.F. Saint did with "Memoirs Of An Invisible Man" is admirable. Published in 1987, it's described as a thriller with the occasional droll humor thrown in for good measure, but it was popular enough to earn Saint an incredible $2.5 million back in the day ... a payday so good that, apparently, the writer never picked up the pen ever again. Wikipedia.org states that he retired and -- in a way -- became invisible.
But the book never collected dust, as they say.
Warner Bros. won the bidding war over the rights to produce a motion picture adaptation of it. The Horror Master himself John Carpenter was hired to direct, and a script was prepared by Robert Collector, Dana Olsen, and William Goldman. Funnyman Chevy Chase was cast as the lead, Nick Halloway, the eventual invisible man; and the cast was rounded out with such hires as Daryl Hannah, Sam Neill, Michael McKean, and Stephen Tobolowsky.
What could go wrong?
Well, the film opened to some pretty awful reviews. Again, taking a cue from the information on Wikipedia.org, it would appear that the respectable performances and solid special effects work truly went nowhere with a script that stuck a bit too close to predictable. For those unaware, here's the plot summary as provided by IMDB.com:
"After a freak accident, a company executive turns completely invisible, goes on the run and becomes hunted by a treacherous CIA official, whilst trying to cope with his new reality."
Taking a property like H.G. Wells' novel "The Invisible Man" and tweaking it in such a way as author H.F. Saint did with "Memoirs Of An Invisible Man" is admirable. Published in 1987, it's described as a thriller with the occasional droll humor thrown in for good measure, but it was popular enough to earn Saint an incredible $2.5 million back in the day ... a payday so good that, apparently, the writer never picked up the pen ever again. Wikipedia.org states that he retired and -- in a way -- became invisible.
But the book never collected dust, as they say.
Warner Bros. won the bidding war over the rights to produce a motion picture adaptation of it. The Horror Master himself John Carpenter was hired to direct, and a script was prepared by Robert Collector, Dana Olsen, and William Goldman. Funnyman Chevy Chase was cast as the lead, Nick Halloway, the eventual invisible man; and the cast was rounded out with such hires as Daryl Hannah, Sam Neill, Michael McKean, and Stephen Tobolowsky.
What could go wrong?
Well, the film opened to some pretty awful reviews. Again, taking a cue from the information on Wikipedia.org, it would appear that the respectable performances and solid special effects work truly went nowhere with a script that stuck a bit too close to predictable. For those unaware, here's the plot summary as provided by IMDB.com:
"After a freak accident, a company executive turns completely invisible, goes on the run and becomes hunted by a treacherous CIA official, whilst trying to cope with his new reality."
As is often the case with box office failures, it's a bit unclear as to why the film truly failed to build any momentum. Today, I've read that it's a kinda/sorta cult film for some who still admire it, but the reviews available on the Information Superhighway still make it clear that it's a middling production, at best.
IMDB.com's Trivia Page for the film indicates that director Carpenter had nothing but troubles working with both leads Chase and Hannah, going so far as to suggest they'd threaten to have him fired if they were unhappy with his work on set. (I've read that the actor had already had director Ivan Reitman removed from the project in pre-production.) Known to be somewhat difficult to work with, Chase apparently had issues with the film's tone (whatever that may mean), perhaps struggling to find a comfortable performance between its seriousness and the suggested comedy.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
IMDB.com's Trivia Page for the film indicates that director Carpenter had nothing but troubles working with both leads Chase and Hannah, going so far as to suggest they'd threaten to have him fired if they were unhappy with his work on set. (I've read that the actor had already had director Ivan Reitman removed from the project in pre-production.) Known to be somewhat difficult to work with, Chase apparently had issues with the film's tone (whatever that may mean), perhaps struggling to find a comfortable performance between its seriousness and the suggested comedy.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
"Go ahead and puke, that'll scare 'em even more."
-- Joe Briggs (as played by Tim Russ)
-- Joe Briggs (as played by Tim Russ)
I used to share a running joke with a few fellow Science Fiction enthusiasts on a SciFi message board of old. One day, someone showed up in the forum moaning about there not being enough adaptations of any of the works of legendary author Jules Verne, and I piped up: "If you haven't seen one lately, then just wait around ten to fifteen years, and you'll get another one!"
Yes, yes, yes. It would seem that -- every fifteen years or so -- some production studio decides to brush off one of the Verne classics and give it another go, either on the big screen or small. While this naturally excites the denizens of SciFi and Fantasy fans, there are those of us it saddens just as much. Why? Well, because most likely we're going to be treated to another watered down incarnation that, structurally, really looks very little like the inspiration its based on. Though I haven't seen this 1993 telefilm -- titled Journey To The Center Of The Earth -- I've read enough to know that it's mostly known for pillaging Vernes' central idea (and the title, of course) but then going off in another direction entirely.
That's Hollywood for ya!
Here's the plot summary as provided by our friends at IMDB.com:
"Taking the title from the novel by Jules Verne, this story takes his basic premise of the desire to travel to the center of the Earth. The travelers, using their craft, penetrate an active volcano and encounter a strange world filled with many creatures and an evil force controlling it all."
Directed by William Dear (he previously delivered Timerider: The Adventure Of Lyle Swann to theaters in 1982), the adaptation was crafted by Robert Gunter and David Mickey Evans. The project starred David Dundara, Farrah Forke, Kim Miyori, John Neville, and Jeffrey Nordling.
Yes, yes, yes. It would seem that -- every fifteen years or so -- some production studio decides to brush off one of the Verne classics and give it another go, either on the big screen or small. While this naturally excites the denizens of SciFi and Fantasy fans, there are those of us it saddens just as much. Why? Well, because most likely we're going to be treated to another watered down incarnation that, structurally, really looks very little like the inspiration its based on. Though I haven't seen this 1993 telefilm -- titled Journey To The Center Of The Earth -- I've read enough to know that it's mostly known for pillaging Vernes' central idea (and the title, of course) but then going off in another direction entirely.
That's Hollywood for ya!
Here's the plot summary as provided by our friends at IMDB.com:
"Taking the title from the novel by Jules Verne, this story takes his basic premise of the desire to travel to the center of the Earth. The travelers, using their craft, penetrate an active volcano and encounter a strange world filled with many creatures and an evil force controlling it all."
Directed by William Dear (he previously delivered Timerider: The Adventure Of Lyle Swann to theaters in 1982), the adaptation was crafted by Robert Gunter and David Mickey Evans. The project starred David Dundara, Farrah Forke, Kim Miyori, John Neville, and Jeffrey Nordling.
Other than snippets of information here and there, I haven't read a wealth online about the project. I have seen places wherein writers have stated this telefilm was intending to launch a series, but all that IMDB.com reports on that topic is that an ongoing serial never materialized. Who knows? Something set in a regular subterrranean environment might've been fairly expensive for any of the major networks in the early-to-mid 1990's, so it's not all that surprising that this one never quite blasted off ... well, other than in this telefilm format.
Interestingly enough, there is a copy of the flick available for purchase on Amazon.com. It appears to be an DVD-R-style print -- meaning most likely that whoever controls the original rights maintains it digitally and produces legal copies with each order. I've always had difficulty getting those to play on traditional DVD players, so I'm inclined to wait until this one shows up as available for streaming to give it a whirl. Why not? It definitely had an interesting cast -- some real talent in there -- and it might be worth a trip underground, though reviews suggest one shouldn't expect too much.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
Interestingly enough, there is a copy of the flick available for purchase on Amazon.com. It appears to be an DVD-R-style print -- meaning most likely that whoever controls the original rights maintains it digitally and produces legal copies with each order. I've always had difficulty getting those to play on traditional DVD players, so I'm inclined to wait until this one shows up as available for streaming to give it a whirl. Why not? It definitely had an interesting cast -- some real talent in there -- and it might be worth a trip underground, though reviews suggest one shouldn't expect too much.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
Films have long made peace with exploring the results of broken familial relationships, and some of the better ones have certainly given audiences something to think about when it comes to the lasting effects of love between – say – a mother and a son.
Wikipedia.org reports that the incestual love between a mother and her male child is called the Jocasta Complex, named after the Greek queen from the tragedy better known as Oedipus Rex. For those unawares, King Lauis and his queen (Jocasta) have a son that they quickly renounce due to the prophecy claiming that the king will eventually die at the boy’s hand. Believing they can cheat fate, the two see the infant abandoned in the wild, but before death can take hold the child is found and adopted by a shepherd. Named Oedipus, the boy eventually heads to Thebes, kills Lauis, and weds the queen, thus fulfilling the prophecy though completely unaware of his lineage. (There’s a bit more, but methinks you get the idea.)
Just as psychoanalysts have pulled the Oedipal Complex from this centuries old yarn (a boy’s affection for his mother), they’re also christened the reverse based entirely on the queen’s perspective. In Jocasta’s defense, she didn’t know (at the time) that Oedipus was her child, but I’m not here to split hairs. The lady suffers a sad ending – this is Greek tragedy, after all – but her name shines on forever in behavioral journals published around the world.
The same could be said for the eventual rise-and-fall of Señora Fourneau, the headmistress for the 19th century boarding school featured in writer/director Narciso Ibáñdez Serrador’s The House That Screamed (1969). While the motion picture stops short of definitively declaring that the mother/son relationship was incestuous, I believe there’s enough evidence provided onscreen to make for a reasonable clinical diagnosis. Just like the fate that befell Jocasta, the lovely señora likely will never be the same.
Wikipedia.org reports that the incestual love between a mother and her male child is called the Jocasta Complex, named after the Greek queen from the tragedy better known as Oedipus Rex. For those unawares, King Lauis and his queen (Jocasta) have a son that they quickly renounce due to the prophecy claiming that the king will eventually die at the boy’s hand. Believing they can cheat fate, the two see the infant abandoned in the wild, but before death can take hold the child is found and adopted by a shepherd. Named Oedipus, the boy eventually heads to Thebes, kills Lauis, and weds the queen, thus fulfilling the prophecy though completely unaware of his lineage. (There’s a bit more, but methinks you get the idea.)
Just as psychoanalysts have pulled the Oedipal Complex from this centuries old yarn (a boy’s affection for his mother), they’re also christened the reverse based entirely on the queen’s perspective. In Jocasta’s defense, she didn’t know (at the time) that Oedipus was her child, but I’m not here to split hairs. The lady suffers a sad ending – this is Greek tragedy, after all – but her name shines on forever in behavioral journals published around the world.
The same could be said for the eventual rise-and-fall of Señora Fourneau, the headmistress for the 19th century boarding school featured in writer/director Narciso Ibáñdez Serrador’s The House That Screamed (1969). While the motion picture stops short of definitively declaring that the mother/son relationship was incestuous, I believe there’s enough evidence provided onscreen to make for a reasonable clinical diagnosis. Just like the fate that befell Jocasta, the lovely señora likely will never be the same.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A strict headmistress runs a secluded school for wayward girls in 19th century France, whose students are disappearing under mysterious circumstances.”
The plight of a reviewer who watches so many films is that it eventually grows harder and harder to find one that truly both registers and says something about the world we live in; and this is why I do prefer spending so much of time with older releases made before the pomp and circumstance of computerized special effects. Simply put, storytellers had to often work harder – with vastly less resources – to craft stories that could make an impact. Granted, some of their tricks might seem downright quaint – especially by comparison to what’s so commonplace today – but their lean, mean, frightening machines gave some flammable food for thought to brains hungry for such entertainment. So while I may have been familiar with Narciso Ibáñdez Serrador’s name, I’d yet to take in one of his pictures. That now has been rectified with Arrow Film’s stellar release of The House That Screamed, and I just might consider myself a convert.
In short? I loved it.
Some of the commentary I’ve read online draw strong comparisons to Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, and I think these similarities are deserving of merit. For example, Psycho – for the most part – takes place in a single locale; once audiences are delivered to the fateful Bates Motel, there’s no hope for an early check-out. (Well, not alive, anyway.) House does much of the same, delivering viewers by carriage at the onset to the secluded boarding school and then leaving them there for the duration of the tale. Additionally, both films thematically stake out – curiously enough – a pivotal shower scene with which to show that their worlds require a bit of voyeurism in order to understand their respective psychologies. Lastly, both scripts explore the bleak consequences owed entirely to a flawed relationship between mothers and sons … though House’s development is probably a bit closer to the themes of David Lynch than Hitchcock ever thought possible.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A strict headmistress runs a secluded school for wayward girls in 19th century France, whose students are disappearing under mysterious circumstances.”
The plight of a reviewer who watches so many films is that it eventually grows harder and harder to find one that truly both registers and says something about the world we live in; and this is why I do prefer spending so much of time with older releases made before the pomp and circumstance of computerized special effects. Simply put, storytellers had to often work harder – with vastly less resources – to craft stories that could make an impact. Granted, some of their tricks might seem downright quaint – especially by comparison to what’s so commonplace today – but their lean, mean, frightening machines gave some flammable food for thought to brains hungry for such entertainment. So while I may have been familiar with Narciso Ibáñdez Serrador’s name, I’d yet to take in one of his pictures. That now has been rectified with Arrow Film’s stellar release of The House That Screamed, and I just might consider myself a convert.
In short? I loved it.
Some of the commentary I’ve read online draw strong comparisons to Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, and I think these similarities are deserving of merit. For example, Psycho – for the most part – takes place in a single locale; once audiences are delivered to the fateful Bates Motel, there’s no hope for an early check-out. (Well, not alive, anyway.) House does much of the same, delivering viewers by carriage at the onset to the secluded boarding school and then leaving them there for the duration of the tale. Additionally, both films thematically stake out – curiously enough – a pivotal shower scene with which to show that their worlds require a bit of voyeurism in order to understand their respective psychologies. Lastly, both scripts explore the bleak consequences owed entirely to a flawed relationship between mothers and sons … though House’s development is probably a bit closer to the themes of David Lynch than Hitchcock ever thought possible.
As Headmistress Fourneau, the late Lilli Palmer is nothing short of masterful. The award-winning actress commands every scene she’s in, making it perfectly clear that she – as a character – believes herself not only a master of her fate but also the futures of any and all of those under her tutelage. Serrador’s script goes to great pains very early in the draft to establish just how far she’s willing to go to maintain order in her own private corner of the universe – a kind of torture is not out of reach – and we learn to pity the fool(s) willing to cross her with even the slightest offence. It isn’t hard to accept that some of these young women would rather break out and run away instead of facing her particular brand of education, and it’s here where House begins dabbling with the aura of mystery.
Just where – pray tell – are these ladies running to?
It’s a puzzle that mostly troubles her young son, Luis (played by John Moulder-Brown). Privately, he’s been doing what a growing male mind would naturally do and getting to know a few of these girls, but it’s perhaps this world’s worst kept secret as practically everyone under the roof seems to be aware of his dalliances. Of course, his mother disapproves – she keeps telling him, in no uncertain terms, that none of them will ever love him like she does – and even a few of the students in residence know of these clandestine encounters and use that knowledge to their own benefit. In such institutions, secrets become their own form of currency, and the highest prices are being paid in blood.
Without getting too deeply into the particulars, I think it’s still important to point out that House is what I’ve often called a ‘broken narrative’ film. (Don’t look it up, folks, as I think it’s honestly my own term.)
Rather than chart its path in a traditional form – meet X and follow X on her journey from start-to-finish – Serrador’s tale introduces characters (thus shifting focus) as it needs them but truly gives viewers no one player to follow the entire time. Like loss interrupts life, Serrador realigns the narrative here once or twice. Yes, it’s a bit unconventional, much like Quentin Tarantino toys with broken chronology in his Pulp Fiction (1994). Just about the time when you might think you know whose story this is, let’s just say that ‘there’s a death in the family,’ and the movie pushes you onto an adjusted path. Some of this is done to conceal the culprit’s identity – let’s just say that these young ladies aren’t just ‘disappearing,’ if you catch my drift, and there is a solid (but shrinking) handful of available suspects – so a reasonable amount of misdirection is required for the events to unfold as they do. It may not have been as organic as possible, but it was necessary in order to maintain the final twist.
Suffice it to say, you may not want to pick any favorites amongst the young, lovely lasses … because she might not last the length of the picture.
Definitively, I’m not above stating that I just had an awful lot of fun with House … once I got into it. It’s set-up is a bit slow – we spend a fair amount of time setting up the atmosphere of the boarding school and the key players – but the pay-off is grand, right up until the villain’s reveal and some pretty dark closing moments. Yes, the ending reminded me of a handful of other pictures that have concluded in the same vein, but I just loved this one’s setting and how its players wind up in each of their respective tragedies. It’s deliciously grim … and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Just where – pray tell – are these ladies running to?
It’s a puzzle that mostly troubles her young son, Luis (played by John Moulder-Brown). Privately, he’s been doing what a growing male mind would naturally do and getting to know a few of these girls, but it’s perhaps this world’s worst kept secret as practically everyone under the roof seems to be aware of his dalliances. Of course, his mother disapproves – she keeps telling him, in no uncertain terms, that none of them will ever love him like she does – and even a few of the students in residence know of these clandestine encounters and use that knowledge to their own benefit. In such institutions, secrets become their own form of currency, and the highest prices are being paid in blood.
Without getting too deeply into the particulars, I think it’s still important to point out that House is what I’ve often called a ‘broken narrative’ film. (Don’t look it up, folks, as I think it’s honestly my own term.)
Rather than chart its path in a traditional form – meet X and follow X on her journey from start-to-finish – Serrador’s tale introduces characters (thus shifting focus) as it needs them but truly gives viewers no one player to follow the entire time. Like loss interrupts life, Serrador realigns the narrative here once or twice. Yes, it’s a bit unconventional, much like Quentin Tarantino toys with broken chronology in his Pulp Fiction (1994). Just about the time when you might think you know whose story this is, let’s just say that ‘there’s a death in the family,’ and the movie pushes you onto an adjusted path. Some of this is done to conceal the culprit’s identity – let’s just say that these young ladies aren’t just ‘disappearing,’ if you catch my drift, and there is a solid (but shrinking) handful of available suspects – so a reasonable amount of misdirection is required for the events to unfold as they do. It may not have been as organic as possible, but it was necessary in order to maintain the final twist.
Suffice it to say, you may not want to pick any favorites amongst the young, lovely lasses … because she might not last the length of the picture.
Definitively, I’m not above stating that I just had an awful lot of fun with House … once I got into it. It’s set-up is a bit slow – we spend a fair amount of time setting up the atmosphere of the boarding school and the key players – but the pay-off is grand, right up until the villain’s reveal and some pretty dark closing moments. Yes, the ending reminded me of a handful of other pictures that have concluded in the same vein, but I just loved this one’s setting and how its players wind up in each of their respective tragedies. It’s deliciously grim … and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The House That Screamed (1969) (aka La Residencia) (aka Finishing School) was produced by Anabel Films S.A. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m no trained video expert and I was only provided an industry copy of disc, I’m relying upon the company published advertising materials to assure you that this is an all-new 4K restoration … and it looks and sounds marvelous! (There’s a curious freeze-frame moment in the picture that consumers might think is a data error, but I’ve read online that it’s part and parcel of the original production. Still … kinda weird choice …) I’ll add that I did find the audio a bit tinny in a few spots, but I’m guessing that’s likely attributed back to the source materials as well.
Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?
Well, this is Arrow Films, and they rarely disappoint. I’ve not had the time to explore everything on here, but there’s an audio commentary film critic Anna Bogutskaya; two different cuts of the film (the original U.S. theatrical along with Spanish release); a series of interviews discussing the project as well as Spanish Horror; some excerpts of alternate takes of the flick; a trailer gallery; and an images gallery. The physical copy also provides some newly commissioned artwork, a mini poster, and slipcover. (Again, I can’t speak to those items as I only received an approved copy of the disc itself.) As usual, Arrow continues to please fans of cinema with their supplementals package.
Highly recommended.
As psychological Horror goes, The House That Screamed certainly benefits from an interesting though mildly predictably premise, an ensemble of talented actors and actresses, some great direction, and some fabulous production details. Its story is a somewhat fractured perspective – I was never quite certain whose story this was, and I think that’s an intention choice by the director – making it somewhat difficult as the mystery unspools to know exactly whom to follow; but its ending – while reminiscent of the kind of thing Hitchcock did best – makes it worth the wait, so far as this reviewer is concerned.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary pre-production Blu-ray copy of The House That Screamed (1969) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?
Well, this is Arrow Films, and they rarely disappoint. I’ve not had the time to explore everything on here, but there’s an audio commentary film critic Anna Bogutskaya; two different cuts of the film (the original U.S. theatrical along with Spanish release); a series of interviews discussing the project as well as Spanish Horror; some excerpts of alternate takes of the flick; a trailer gallery; and an images gallery. The physical copy also provides some newly commissioned artwork, a mini poster, and slipcover. (Again, I can’t speak to those items as I only received an approved copy of the disc itself.) As usual, Arrow continues to please fans of cinema with their supplementals package.
Highly recommended.
As psychological Horror goes, The House That Screamed certainly benefits from an interesting though mildly predictably premise, an ensemble of talented actors and actresses, some great direction, and some fabulous production details. Its story is a somewhat fractured perspective – I was never quite certain whose story this was, and I think that’s an intention choice by the director – making it somewhat difficult as the mystery unspools to know exactly whom to follow; but its ending – while reminiscent of the kind of thing Hitchcock did best – makes it worth the wait, so far as this reviewer is concerned.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary pre-production Blu-ray copy of The House That Screamed (1969) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An adventurer searches for hidden treasure in the Peruvian jungles.”
As is often the case with so many of IMDB.com’s plot summaries, that one is both correct and incorrect when applied to 1954's Secret Of The Incas. In the guise of ‘Harry Steele,’ screen legend Charlton Heston is and isn’t all that much of an adventurer – certainly not the caliber of which it’s been said that the role inspired (which I’ll get to momentarily). He’s part hunk, part con man, part guide, part tomb raider, and part swindler (you might say). But – ahem – adventurer? Well …
For those of you who are caught a bit unawares, Steele has long been cited as being the inspiration behind the wildly successful Indiana Jones franchise of films that emerged from the collaboration between Hollywood heavyweights George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. Watching the film for the first time, I found it easy to see the connection: beyond the signature leather jacket, occasional fedora hat, and tan khakis, Heston damn near sounds like Harrison Ford (or is that vice versa?) in a few spots. Throwing in the fact that Incas is, largely, set in dense jungles of Peru – the film was shot at the revered Machu Picchu – and there are archaeologists busy exploring some ancient ruins, I think it’s pretty clear that the Heston picture figured strongly into the founding dynamic of Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981) and maybe some bits and pieces of the sequels … but the association ends there.
Heston’s Steele is, otherwise, a pretty significant narrative stretch away from Ford’s Indiana Jones.
Indiana Jones was a bit ruthless and relentless in his pursuit of important antiquities, often making the right and proper choice on behalf of preserving artifacts for historical posterity. Steele, by comparison, is much more a grifter. He’s shown in Incas’ opening sequence as being not quite pure, conning a few folks here and there out of a few bucks as well as strong hints to his nature as a philanderer with ladies who might have something to offer him in return for his – ahem – “services.” To be specific, Steele was not an archaeologist by trade. In fact, the script suggests he was in the tomb raiding business almost exclusively for the financial rewards it could bring him. Granted, he does make the noble decision in the flick’s big finish; but he’s still rewarded when his act of selflessness gives him the heart of the girl instead of the cool cash.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An adventurer searches for hidden treasure in the Peruvian jungles.”
As is often the case with so many of IMDB.com’s plot summaries, that one is both correct and incorrect when applied to 1954's Secret Of The Incas. In the guise of ‘Harry Steele,’ screen legend Charlton Heston is and isn’t all that much of an adventurer – certainly not the caliber of which it’s been said that the role inspired (which I’ll get to momentarily). He’s part hunk, part con man, part guide, part tomb raider, and part swindler (you might say). But – ahem – adventurer? Well …
For those of you who are caught a bit unawares, Steele has long been cited as being the inspiration behind the wildly successful Indiana Jones franchise of films that emerged from the collaboration between Hollywood heavyweights George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. Watching the film for the first time, I found it easy to see the connection: beyond the signature leather jacket, occasional fedora hat, and tan khakis, Heston damn near sounds like Harrison Ford (or is that vice versa?) in a few spots. Throwing in the fact that Incas is, largely, set in dense jungles of Peru – the film was shot at the revered Machu Picchu – and there are archaeologists busy exploring some ancient ruins, I think it’s pretty clear that the Heston picture figured strongly into the founding dynamic of Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981) and maybe some bits and pieces of the sequels … but the association ends there.
Heston’s Steele is, otherwise, a pretty significant narrative stretch away from Ford’s Indiana Jones.
Indiana Jones was a bit ruthless and relentless in his pursuit of important antiquities, often making the right and proper choice on behalf of preserving artifacts for historical posterity. Steele, by comparison, is much more a grifter. He’s shown in Incas’ opening sequence as being not quite pure, conning a few folks here and there out of a few bucks as well as strong hints to his nature as a philanderer with ladies who might have something to offer him in return for his – ahem – “services.” To be specific, Steele was not an archaeologist by trade. In fact, the script suggests he was in the tomb raiding business almost exclusively for the financial rewards it could bring him. Granted, he does make the noble decision in the flick’s big finish; but he’s still rewarded when his act of selflessness gives him the heart of the girl instead of the cool cash.
Structurally, there are still other comparisons one could make in the whole Steele/Jones debate. Much like Jones surrounded himself with companions and confidantes who’d have his back in a crisis, Steele has cemented his own allies in Peru who’ve helped him in his pursuit of financial security. Also, the Indiana Jones franchise have explored the ideas of professional adversaries who show up in the knick of time to throw the intrepid archaeologist off the trail, and Steele has his own antagonist in the form of ‘Ed Morgan’ (Thomas Mitchell), a local who has even resorted to trying to have Steele shot to scare him out of the business. And it would take a fool to miss the obvious similarities between how Dr. Jones needs sunlight and a special jewel in the Well of the Souls … almost exactly how Steele needs a flashlight and a special gem to find the missing Incan Sunburst, a treasure of gold and jewels.
You know what they say: imitation is the most sincere form of flattery around. And it shows!
Nonetheless, there is surprisingly very little adventure aboard Incas, and that’s probably owed more to the Hollywood requirements of its era. While some might argue that the film’s backbone is the search for some lost objet d’art, I see it more as a romantic melodrama set against the backdrop of the traditional heist film. Steele is unarguably chasing his own pot of gold, but that wouldn’t even have been possible without the central love story: Romanian refugee Elena Antonescu (the lovely Nicole Maurey) is fleeing her nation’s authorities, one of which arrives in a private aircraft, exactly the kind of thing Steele needs to – ahem – ‘steal’ in order to go after his pearl. Back in the 1950’s, studios required love interests for their big heroes, and it’s pretty clear that the characteristic banter between Harry and Elena was intended to be the theatrical driving force in this jungle-set potboiler.
Hell, one might even suggest that screenwriters Ranald MacDougall and Sydney Boehm plucked a few pages out of 1942’s landmark Casablanca in order to make all of this work. In Casablanca, Ilsa Lund was the lovely refugee who needed Rick Blaine’s assistance to avoid capture; and it’s this energy that fuels the Harry/Elena scenes. Likewise, Casablanca introduced Ilsa’s much-older husband – Victor Lazslo – to fashion a love triangle for their script; in comparison, MacDougall and Boehm’s story cast TV star Robert Young as the much older archaeologist who – albeit briefly – steals Elena’s heart. Honestly, I could go on with a few more similarities, but I hope I’ve made my point: Incas feels very much like a studio-produced formulaic picture that fits into the requirements of the day.
Lastly, I’d also point out – as have so many – that perhaps the real star in all of this is Peru. The vast percentage of the film includes location shooting in the country, and it’s a very impressive effort that looks grand, much in the same way the Jones adventures take audiences on their own world tour. Though my problems with the picture may not amount to a hill of beans much less the quest for fortune and glory, it still boasts some great screen charisma from Heston and Maurey. I’ve no doubt that fans watching it can appreciate exactly how big a footprint it left in order to make a blockbuster derivative so profitable decades later.
You know what they say: imitation is the most sincere form of flattery around. And it shows!
Nonetheless, there is surprisingly very little adventure aboard Incas, and that’s probably owed more to the Hollywood requirements of its era. While some might argue that the film’s backbone is the search for some lost objet d’art, I see it more as a romantic melodrama set against the backdrop of the traditional heist film. Steele is unarguably chasing his own pot of gold, but that wouldn’t even have been possible without the central love story: Romanian refugee Elena Antonescu (the lovely Nicole Maurey) is fleeing her nation’s authorities, one of which arrives in a private aircraft, exactly the kind of thing Steele needs to – ahem – ‘steal’ in order to go after his pearl. Back in the 1950’s, studios required love interests for their big heroes, and it’s pretty clear that the characteristic banter between Harry and Elena was intended to be the theatrical driving force in this jungle-set potboiler.
Hell, one might even suggest that screenwriters Ranald MacDougall and Sydney Boehm plucked a few pages out of 1942’s landmark Casablanca in order to make all of this work. In Casablanca, Ilsa Lund was the lovely refugee who needed Rick Blaine’s assistance to avoid capture; and it’s this energy that fuels the Harry/Elena scenes. Likewise, Casablanca introduced Ilsa’s much-older husband – Victor Lazslo – to fashion a love triangle for their script; in comparison, MacDougall and Boehm’s story cast TV star Robert Young as the much older archaeologist who – albeit briefly – steals Elena’s heart. Honestly, I could go on with a few more similarities, but I hope I’ve made my point: Incas feels very much like a studio-produced formulaic picture that fits into the requirements of the day.
Lastly, I’d also point out – as have so many – that perhaps the real star in all of this is Peru. The vast percentage of the film includes location shooting in the country, and it’s a very impressive effort that looks grand, much in the same way the Jones adventures take audiences on their own world tour. Though my problems with the picture may not amount to a hill of beans much less the quest for fortune and glory, it still boasts some great screen charisma from Heston and Maurey. I’ve no doubt that fans watching it can appreciate exactly how big a footprint it left in order to make a blockbuster derivative so profitable decades later.
Secret Of The Incas (1954) was produced by Paramount Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good folks at Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the sights-and-sounds for this 4K remastering was quite good. As is common with some of these older features shot on film, there are a few sequences of grain; but it’s nothing all that distracting, so far as I’m concerned. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, there’s a commentary track from film historian Toby Roan worth a listen. It’s slim pickings, indeed, but that’s still better than no pickings.
Highly recommended.
Make no mistake: Indiana Jones franchise fans have solid reason to rejoice as now with Secret Of The Incas’ release on Blu-ray – with its remastering in 4K from the 35mm YCMs – can be seen in all its glory. Long rumored to have been one of the chief inspirations behind the whole Raiders’ legacy, it looks grand … and yet I can’t help wondering if the end result might be a bit more collective disappointment than anything else. Billed as a “thrilling action yarn,” it’s largely everything else, and I can say that as one who has viewed many dated action films from the bygone era. It’s more melodrama than anything else – with the archaeological caper taking a firm backseat most of the time – but, yes, I’m still glad I’ve seen just where oh where Mr. Lucas and Mr. Spielberg may very well have come up with their idea.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Secret Of The Incas by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Highly recommended.
Make no mistake: Indiana Jones franchise fans have solid reason to rejoice as now with Secret Of The Incas’ release on Blu-ray – with its remastering in 4K from the 35mm YCMs – can be seen in all its glory. Long rumored to have been one of the chief inspirations behind the whole Raiders’ legacy, it looks grand … and yet I can’t help wondering if the end result might be a bit more collective disappointment than anything else. Billed as a “thrilling action yarn,” it’s largely everything else, and I can say that as one who has viewed many dated action films from the bygone era. It’s more melodrama than anything else – with the archaeological caper taking a firm backseat most of the time – but, yes, I’m still glad I’ve seen just where oh where Mr. Lucas and Mr. Spielberg may very well have come up with their idea.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Secret Of The Incas by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
For the record:
Folks, a few months back I was contacted by one my distributor friends who recommended a few titles for me to consider for reviews. These were films from the wider library of Jess Franco, a storyteller from a bygone era who even today – a decade after his passing – remains somewhat controversial for a good number of reasons. The titles were Marquis de Sade’s Justine (1969) and Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy In The Boudoir (aka Eugenie) (1970). Because I watched them back-to-back (snicker snicker, given the subject matter), I’ve chosen to craft a blanket opening statement for their respective reviews, and I’ll then discuss their individual merits after my usual disclaimer. Thanks for reading!
Folks, a few months back I was contacted by one my distributor friends who recommended a few titles for me to consider for reviews. These were films from the wider library of Jess Franco, a storyteller from a bygone era who even today – a decade after his passing – remains somewhat controversial for a good number of reasons. The titles were Marquis de Sade’s Justine (1969) and Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy In The Boudoir (aka Eugenie) (1970). Because I watched them back-to-back (snicker snicker, given the subject matter), I’ve chosen to craft a blanket opening statement for their respective reviews, and I’ll then discuss their individual merits after my usual disclaimer. Thanks for reading!
Let’s put it this way:
If you write 183 different films, then the odds are pretty good that you’re going to have some winners and some losers in there, right? I mean … even if we’re really only talking statistically – with all that we’ve been told about a thousand monkeys typing endlessly, and one will eventually, inevitably produce something Shakespearean – then doesn’t it stand to reason that the screenwriter should find some successes and failures … right?
Now, let’s add another later:
If you direct an astonishing 207 different films, then the odds are pretty that – just like I stated above – you’re going to have the same? Some good, some bad, some ugly. I mean … it just stands to reason that would be the case … right?
Well …
I haven’t seen nearly as much from the library of works of Jess Franco (aka Jesus Franco) as have others. If I’m being perfectly honest, then I’d have to admit that friends and associates have largely encouraged me to avoid some specific titles – not his entire body of “art” – and I’ve never had cause to doubt the advice. I can say that what I have seen hasn’t been all that … erm … what’s the word? Impressive? Persuasive? Relatable? When it comes to productions, I do tend to identify more with films featuring characters I can relate to, and Franco allegedly trafficked in an awful lot of exploitation stuff. And, hey, I’ve no problem with that … but again I keep coming back to the lack of a logically progressing plot being a central requirement.
On that front, I think Franco probably swung and missed more than most, but he probably has a solid reputation wherein his misses might just make for a reasonable way to be entertained for an hour or two. These aren’t grand films by any estimation – at least, none that I’ve seen – but there’s still something about them that I just can’t quite put my finger on …
If you write 183 different films, then the odds are pretty good that you’re going to have some winners and some losers in there, right? I mean … even if we’re really only talking statistically – with all that we’ve been told about a thousand monkeys typing endlessly, and one will eventually, inevitably produce something Shakespearean – then doesn’t it stand to reason that the screenwriter should find some successes and failures … right?
Now, let’s add another later:
If you direct an astonishing 207 different films, then the odds are pretty that – just like I stated above – you’re going to have the same? Some good, some bad, some ugly. I mean … it just stands to reason that would be the case … right?
Well …
I haven’t seen nearly as much from the library of works of Jess Franco (aka Jesus Franco) as have others. If I’m being perfectly honest, then I’d have to admit that friends and associates have largely encouraged me to avoid some specific titles – not his entire body of “art” – and I’ve never had cause to doubt the advice. I can say that what I have seen hasn’t been all that … erm … what’s the word? Impressive? Persuasive? Relatable? When it comes to productions, I do tend to identify more with films featuring characters I can relate to, and Franco allegedly trafficked in an awful lot of exploitation stuff. And, hey, I’ve no problem with that … but again I keep coming back to the lack of a logically progressing plot being a central requirement.
On that front, I think Franco probably swung and missed more than most, but he probably has a solid reputation wherein his misses might just make for a reasonable way to be entertained for an hour or two. These aren’t grand films by any estimation – at least, none that I’ve seen – but there’s still something about them that I just can’t quite put my finger on …
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An innocent girl goes to spend the weekend on an island with a woman and her brother, but soon finds herself entangled in a web of sexual experiments.”
I think it’s safe to argue that some films are much more ‘atmosphere’ than they are story, and – for what it’s worth – I think Philosophy In The Boudoir falls smack in the middle of that idea.
The vast majority of the action for this somewhat sexual perversion takes place on an island escape; cut of from the wider world-at-large, it’s an almost idyllic yet reasonably modern paradise, one that also houses (somewhere in its midst) a cult committed to exploring the limits of – ahem – their own definition of sexual depravity. It’s all captured by Franco and his crew with trickery big and small – some curious out-of-focus photography alongside some equally mysterious color schemes. While that sounds like it might be a bit more ‘skin flick’ than it is a serious arthouse project, there’s still fairly little in here that by today’s standards would be deemed controversial. In fact, comparing it to some of what gets released these days, this Boudoir is far more PG than it is anything else. But for its time? I guess this was pretty newsworthy.
Structurally, Boudoir reminded me quite a bit of Dangerous Liaisons (1988) starring Michelle Pfeiffer, Glenn Close, and John Malkovich; and it’s pretty easy to understand why. Mirvel (played by Jack Taylor) collaborates with his cunning sister Marianne (Maria Rohm) to lure the young, impressionable, yet voluptuous Eugenie (Marie Liljedahl) to this isolated spot so that he can – finally – have his way with her. But somewhere along this passionate journey Marianne hints at exploring her own pleasures (to a degree) with the lass, and then the barn doors are swung wide open when Dolmance (Christopher Lee) and his cult of bedroom adventure seekers begin their own quest for satisfaction as well. Added to this is Franco’s attempts to blur the lines between fantasy and reality, putting the viewer in the precarious position of trying – like Eugenie – to figure out what’s real and what isn’t.
The big difference between Boudoir and Liaisons, however, might be with how it leaves its characters in the last reel. For example, Marquise Isabelle de Merteuil (Glenn Close) ends up unintentionally delivering her own fall from grace within French society once she’s been fully exposed as the tale’s true villainess. Her evil machinations have cost even human lives, and for what? All at the expense of proving herself more diabolically clever than her various suitors and paramours? But Boudoir employs a curious circularity: Franco’s film begins exactly where it began, and – depending upon one’s interpretation – one might suspect that the real person violated here was the audience. Did all of this happen? Was it just one woman’s fanciful imagination? Could it all have been just a dream … after all? That may have been the only way to make sense of every dangled red herring met along the way!
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An innocent girl goes to spend the weekend on an island with a woman and her brother, but soon finds herself entangled in a web of sexual experiments.”
I think it’s safe to argue that some films are much more ‘atmosphere’ than they are story, and – for what it’s worth – I think Philosophy In The Boudoir falls smack in the middle of that idea.
The vast majority of the action for this somewhat sexual perversion takes place on an island escape; cut of from the wider world-at-large, it’s an almost idyllic yet reasonably modern paradise, one that also houses (somewhere in its midst) a cult committed to exploring the limits of – ahem – their own definition of sexual depravity. It’s all captured by Franco and his crew with trickery big and small – some curious out-of-focus photography alongside some equally mysterious color schemes. While that sounds like it might be a bit more ‘skin flick’ than it is a serious arthouse project, there’s still fairly little in here that by today’s standards would be deemed controversial. In fact, comparing it to some of what gets released these days, this Boudoir is far more PG than it is anything else. But for its time? I guess this was pretty newsworthy.
Structurally, Boudoir reminded me quite a bit of Dangerous Liaisons (1988) starring Michelle Pfeiffer, Glenn Close, and John Malkovich; and it’s pretty easy to understand why. Mirvel (played by Jack Taylor) collaborates with his cunning sister Marianne (Maria Rohm) to lure the young, impressionable, yet voluptuous Eugenie (Marie Liljedahl) to this isolated spot so that he can – finally – have his way with her. But somewhere along this passionate journey Marianne hints at exploring her own pleasures (to a degree) with the lass, and then the barn doors are swung wide open when Dolmance (Christopher Lee) and his cult of bedroom adventure seekers begin their own quest for satisfaction as well. Added to this is Franco’s attempts to blur the lines between fantasy and reality, putting the viewer in the precarious position of trying – like Eugenie – to figure out what’s real and what isn’t.
The big difference between Boudoir and Liaisons, however, might be with how it leaves its characters in the last reel. For example, Marquise Isabelle de Merteuil (Glenn Close) ends up unintentionally delivering her own fall from grace within French society once she’s been fully exposed as the tale’s true villainess. Her evil machinations have cost even human lives, and for what? All at the expense of proving herself more diabolically clever than her various suitors and paramours? But Boudoir employs a curious circularity: Franco’s film begins exactly where it began, and – depending upon one’s interpretation – one might suspect that the real person violated here was the audience. Did all of this happen? Was it just one woman’s fanciful imagination? Could it all have been just a dream … after all? That may have been the only way to make sense of every dangled red herring met along the way!
Though I’m certainly no expert on the works of Franco, I’ll admit that Boudoir managed to keep my interest most of the time. (These days, that’s honestly saying something.) The story – what little there is and, as I’ve implied, not all of it makes perfect sense – flows at its own appreciable speed. At a trim eighty-seven minutes from start-to-finish, that’s not bad. The talent makes the most of what’s been either put down on the page or tasked for them to do physically. But being no fan of films that deliver a story for an audience to make of it what they will, I’ll admit to being a bit confused and disappointed with the finale.
Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy In The Boudoir (aka Eugenie) (1970) was produced by Etablissement Sargon, Hape-Film Company GmbH, Producciones Cinematograficas Balcazar, and Video-Tel International Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good folks at Blue Underground. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds of this reported 4K restoration (from the original camera negative) to be quite good, but be warned: there are a few sequences within that are mildly out-of-focus. (I’ve learned from both reading and the supplied commentary that these were done deliberately with artistic intent. You can make up your own mind about whether or not that was a good idea, but I don’t think it was.)
Finally, if you’re looking for special features, then here’s what you have waiting for you. The 4K disc includes only the film along with the commentary by film historians Nathaniel Thompson and Troy Howarth; while I don’t like ‘dissing’ on commentaries, I’ve always got to be honest. I’ve heard Thompson on several projects, and – unfortunately – he’s just too hard to listen to because he talks far too fast. In fact, he speaks so quickly it’s often extraordinarily difficult to get out what he’s saying about fifty percent of the time. (Yes, that may be my age showing, but – as I said – I gotta be honest.) The Blu-ray disc also includes the commentary along with a few additional interviews, most of which look at the totality of Franco’s career with only smaller observations on this particular title. There are also some stills and posters for you to consider. It’s a good collection, to be fair … I just wish someone would tell Thompson to slow it down.
Recommended, but …
As I mentioned above, I had the opportunity to view two Franco pictures, and – by far – Philosophy In The Boudoir I found the better of them if for no other reason that there was a stronger story and perhaps even better defined characters. While it still wasn’t a fulfilling experience – bizarre camera trickery here and there and an unwillingness to spell out exactly everything that was going on in here – I’d still suggest going into it knowing in advance that Franco’s storytelling tropes might not be to everyone’s liking. There’s good and there’s bad – having Christopher Lee turn up in what might be the most curious cameo-style role in the man’s filmography – and you just might be left wanted more.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Blue Underground provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD of Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy In The Boudoir by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy In The Boudoir (aka Eugenie) (1970) was produced by Etablissement Sargon, Hape-Film Company GmbH, Producciones Cinematograficas Balcazar, and Video-Tel International Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good folks at Blue Underground. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds of this reported 4K restoration (from the original camera negative) to be quite good, but be warned: there are a few sequences within that are mildly out-of-focus. (I’ve learned from both reading and the supplied commentary that these were done deliberately with artistic intent. You can make up your own mind about whether or not that was a good idea, but I don’t think it was.)
Finally, if you’re looking for special features, then here’s what you have waiting for you. The 4K disc includes only the film along with the commentary by film historians Nathaniel Thompson and Troy Howarth; while I don’t like ‘dissing’ on commentaries, I’ve always got to be honest. I’ve heard Thompson on several projects, and – unfortunately – he’s just too hard to listen to because he talks far too fast. In fact, he speaks so quickly it’s often extraordinarily difficult to get out what he’s saying about fifty percent of the time. (Yes, that may be my age showing, but – as I said – I gotta be honest.) The Blu-ray disc also includes the commentary along with a few additional interviews, most of which look at the totality of Franco’s career with only smaller observations on this particular title. There are also some stills and posters for you to consider. It’s a good collection, to be fair … I just wish someone would tell Thompson to slow it down.
Recommended, but …
As I mentioned above, I had the opportunity to view two Franco pictures, and – by far – Philosophy In The Boudoir I found the better of them if for no other reason that there was a stronger story and perhaps even better defined characters. While it still wasn’t a fulfilling experience – bizarre camera trickery here and there and an unwillingness to spell out exactly everything that was going on in here – I’d still suggest going into it knowing in advance that Franco’s storytelling tropes might not be to everyone’s liking. There’s good and there’s bad – having Christopher Lee turn up in what might be the most curious cameo-style role in the man’s filmography – and you just might be left wanted more.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Blue Underground provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD of Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy In The Boudoir by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
There are good aspects to video production becoming so affordable, and, of course, there are bad aspects. One might say “many bad aspects,” but I’ll just leave it at “bad.”
One of the downsides is that any Tom, Dick, or Harry can – with a reasonable commitment of resources – throw together a film, take it on the independent or festival circuit, and secure a distributor. This doesn’t mean that the picture is one that needs to find an audience; rather, it means that the people behind it saw enough value to complete the thing and the company who puts their name on it believes they might profit from the efforts expended. The best of the ‘good aspects’ is that means some creators may inevitably break through that glass ceiling keeping them outside of the film industry; they’ll get invited in, where more willing investors just might help them make their dreams come true.
What we’re left with, though, in the meantime are these lesser stepping stones to that final goal.
I suspect Battle Earth is one such stepping stone product. It’s sprinkled with enough good ideas to understand the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of getting made, but that’s about all it’s sprinkled with.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and characters. If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last two paragraphs for my final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A squad of Canadian soldiers survive a helicopter crash deep behind enemy lines during an alien invasion of Earth, now they have to survive the night.”
Mankind – yet again – has been dealt a devastating blow. Civilization as we know it has been mostly wiped out. There are pockets of resistance – fighters still willing to gear up and head out into the battleground – who seek to retake the Earth from these alien aggressors. Into this fold, a young Canadian paramedic named Greg Baker (played with curious restraint by Kevin Johnson) gets assigned as a field medic. His team’s mission?
Well, that’s where Battle Earth kinda/sorta starts to fall apart.
Baker and his partners are in a helicopter shot down over enemy territory. They’re ‘escorting’ a package for deliver to high command, but their success relies heavily on getting that ‘curiosity’ to others who can use it against these evil aliens soldiers. What they have is an oddity – a device of decidedly alien technology – that does apparently an awful lot of things. The soldiers refer to it as a psychic database, one that catalogues the offworld race’s technology and tactics, but we’re never shown just how or why that works. Instead, we’re shown that it causes hallucinations to the Earthlings who possess it, and most of what happens simply revolves around that.
In and off itself, that isn’t a bad premise, per se.
In fact, I can think of several possible scenarios where that might come in handy when crafting a dynamic story to tell about this lost squadron of men trying to do right by mankind. Unfortunately, Baker spends the bulk of the film ulcerating over his unfaithful girlfriend – he’s even delivered images of her cheating on him with another man – but he stays true to the mission. And – for the record – having the psychic database look like little more than a football buried under layers of duct tape kinda/sorta derailed my ability to see it as anything other than, well, a football buried under layers of duct tape.
Sadly, the script by relative newcomers Ryan Hatt, Kevin Johnson, and Aaron Kurmey only seems committed to putting this ‘Predator Platoon’ through its paces while reminding the audience of other soldier-centric productions that were far superior to this dreck. Just at a glance, I could draw comparisons to Predator (1987), Battle: Los Angeles (2011), Full Metal Jacket (1987), and Oliver Stone’s seminal Platoon (1986). This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but, in the early helicopter sequences, one grunt rides half-inside, half-outside the aircraft while humming the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ – the classical theme prominently showcase in Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979) – and this unfortunate sequence imbues the film with a heavily ‘been there, done that’ vibe that never quite goes away.
Also, much of Battle Earth is plagued by – simply put – sequences that last far longer than they need be in order to establish any narrative significance. For example, the motion picture begins with a 7-minute ‘dream sequence’ that seeks to define our protagonist, the young Mr. Baker. (I won’t spoil the hidden agenda of it, but, suffice it to say, there’s a strong thematic reason for it to be there.) Well, at 7 minutes, it goes on probably 6 minutes longer than necessary. Then, there’s a cut to another 5 minute sequence to further establish Baker and his unfaithful, mostly-disinterested girlfriend … and then we cut to ‘six months later.’ (???) Look, there’s nothing inherently wrong or evil with providing some narrative set-up; next time, I’d encourage the crew to figure out a way to accomplish it in half the time.
Otherwise, the picture certainly sports some modest special effects, all no doubt completed with the best apps money can buy. It’s ripe with the kind of herky-jerky handheld camera movements no amount of Dramamine can fix. And the moral to the story ends up being little more than “never take your psychic database into battle.”
Didn’t we know that going in?
Battle Earth is produced by Rambunxious Entertainment, Multivisionnaire Pictures, and Dead Skuters. DVD distribution is being handled through Inception Media Group, LLC. As for the technical specifications … well, I don’t want to beat a dead horse, so let me say that the feature consistently sports acceptable picture and sound quality though both appeared to have been handled by novices (there are many out-of-focus shots and many poorly miked sequences that hamper the film’s effectiveness but not so bad that it destroys the picture). As is often the case with some of these smaller, low budget productions, there are no special features to speak of.
Recommended (mildly) for anyone who’s a die-hard enthusiast of even the most borderline sci-fi concepts, themes, and flicks … or anyone who’s just a glutton for punishment. None of this is intended to imply that Battle Earth is entirely forgettable – I’d argue that it’s exactly the kind of lesser feature that prompts so many film enthusiasts to either (A) parody it or (B) watch it, reach the conclusion they can do better, and then go out and do just that. Germs of good ideas are not enough to elevate some films beyond their stated minutiae – they need acceptable production standards and quality performances in order to grow into something special. This battle appeared lost before it ever got started.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Inception Media Group, LLC provided me with an advance DVD copy of Battle Earth for the expressed purposes of completing this review.
-- EZ
One of the downsides is that any Tom, Dick, or Harry can – with a reasonable commitment of resources – throw together a film, take it on the independent or festival circuit, and secure a distributor. This doesn’t mean that the picture is one that needs to find an audience; rather, it means that the people behind it saw enough value to complete the thing and the company who puts their name on it believes they might profit from the efforts expended. The best of the ‘good aspects’ is that means some creators may inevitably break through that glass ceiling keeping them outside of the film industry; they’ll get invited in, where more willing investors just might help them make their dreams come true.
What we’re left with, though, in the meantime are these lesser stepping stones to that final goal.
I suspect Battle Earth is one such stepping stone product. It’s sprinkled with enough good ideas to understand the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of getting made, but that’s about all it’s sprinkled with.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and characters. If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last two paragraphs for my final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A squad of Canadian soldiers survive a helicopter crash deep behind enemy lines during an alien invasion of Earth, now they have to survive the night.”
Mankind – yet again – has been dealt a devastating blow. Civilization as we know it has been mostly wiped out. There are pockets of resistance – fighters still willing to gear up and head out into the battleground – who seek to retake the Earth from these alien aggressors. Into this fold, a young Canadian paramedic named Greg Baker (played with curious restraint by Kevin Johnson) gets assigned as a field medic. His team’s mission?
Well, that’s where Battle Earth kinda/sorta starts to fall apart.
Baker and his partners are in a helicopter shot down over enemy territory. They’re ‘escorting’ a package for deliver to high command, but their success relies heavily on getting that ‘curiosity’ to others who can use it against these evil aliens soldiers. What they have is an oddity – a device of decidedly alien technology – that does apparently an awful lot of things. The soldiers refer to it as a psychic database, one that catalogues the offworld race’s technology and tactics, but we’re never shown just how or why that works. Instead, we’re shown that it causes hallucinations to the Earthlings who possess it, and most of what happens simply revolves around that.
In and off itself, that isn’t a bad premise, per se.
In fact, I can think of several possible scenarios where that might come in handy when crafting a dynamic story to tell about this lost squadron of men trying to do right by mankind. Unfortunately, Baker spends the bulk of the film ulcerating over his unfaithful girlfriend – he’s even delivered images of her cheating on him with another man – but he stays true to the mission. And – for the record – having the psychic database look like little more than a football buried under layers of duct tape kinda/sorta derailed my ability to see it as anything other than, well, a football buried under layers of duct tape.
Sadly, the script by relative newcomers Ryan Hatt, Kevin Johnson, and Aaron Kurmey only seems committed to putting this ‘Predator Platoon’ through its paces while reminding the audience of other soldier-centric productions that were far superior to this dreck. Just at a glance, I could draw comparisons to Predator (1987), Battle: Los Angeles (2011), Full Metal Jacket (1987), and Oliver Stone’s seminal Platoon (1986). This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but, in the early helicopter sequences, one grunt rides half-inside, half-outside the aircraft while humming the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ – the classical theme prominently showcase in Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979) – and this unfortunate sequence imbues the film with a heavily ‘been there, done that’ vibe that never quite goes away.
Also, much of Battle Earth is plagued by – simply put – sequences that last far longer than they need be in order to establish any narrative significance. For example, the motion picture begins with a 7-minute ‘dream sequence’ that seeks to define our protagonist, the young Mr. Baker. (I won’t spoil the hidden agenda of it, but, suffice it to say, there’s a strong thematic reason for it to be there.) Well, at 7 minutes, it goes on probably 6 minutes longer than necessary. Then, there’s a cut to another 5 minute sequence to further establish Baker and his unfaithful, mostly-disinterested girlfriend … and then we cut to ‘six months later.’ (???) Look, there’s nothing inherently wrong or evil with providing some narrative set-up; next time, I’d encourage the crew to figure out a way to accomplish it in half the time.
Otherwise, the picture certainly sports some modest special effects, all no doubt completed with the best apps money can buy. It’s ripe with the kind of herky-jerky handheld camera movements no amount of Dramamine can fix. And the moral to the story ends up being little more than “never take your psychic database into battle.”
Didn’t we know that going in?
Battle Earth is produced by Rambunxious Entertainment, Multivisionnaire Pictures, and Dead Skuters. DVD distribution is being handled through Inception Media Group, LLC. As for the technical specifications … well, I don’t want to beat a dead horse, so let me say that the feature consistently sports acceptable picture and sound quality though both appeared to have been handled by novices (there are many out-of-focus shots and many poorly miked sequences that hamper the film’s effectiveness but not so bad that it destroys the picture). As is often the case with some of these smaller, low budget productions, there are no special features to speak of.
Recommended (mildly) for anyone who’s a die-hard enthusiast of even the most borderline sci-fi concepts, themes, and flicks … or anyone who’s just a glutton for punishment. None of this is intended to imply that Battle Earth is entirely forgettable – I’d argue that it’s exactly the kind of lesser feature that prompts so many film enthusiasts to either (A) parody it or (B) watch it, reach the conclusion they can do better, and then go out and do just that. Germs of good ideas are not enough to elevate some films beyond their stated minutiae – they need acceptable production standards and quality performances in order to grow into something special. This battle appeared lost before it ever got started.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Inception Media Group, LLC provided me with an advance DVD copy of Battle Earth for the expressed purposes of completing this review.
-- EZ
